Christmas Memories
by jareya
Summary: A look back at some of Harm and Mac's past Christmases. Originally written for the December 2012 HBX Challenge.
1. December 1967 - Harm

_A/N: This is a collection of vignettes looking back at some of Harm and Mac's Christmases over the years. The dates and details may be a little dodgy here and theres, so I apologize in advance for any errors or inconsistencies. This collection will have 9 or 10 chapters, but I'll post them pretty rapidly. Your feedback as always is much appreciated!_

_Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own any of it..._

**_December 1967_**

It was Christmas Eve, and four year old Harm and his mother were watching a Christmas special on TV. It was a chilly night, so Harm's mother fetched a quilt to wrap around them on the couch. Harm was quiet, tense, almost like he was waiting for something. His mother, Trish, knew exactly what her little boy was waiting for, and it broke her heart. She was doing all she could think of to distract him, but nothing seemed to be working.

Their little artificial Christmas tree stood in the corner, gaily decorated with popcorn and tinsel, with three little gifts underneath it. Little Harm had insisted they 'buy a present for Dad' – so Trish had gone out and bought one for her husband, even though she knew he was miles away on a mission, and wouldn't be coming home for the holidays. She would rather have saved the money she spent on the extra gift, but she figured it was worth it if it made her sweet, sensitive boy feel a little bit better.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Trish was troubled. As a young woman practically raising her child alone, she had learned quickly to be cautious. It was one of the worst things about her husband being gone so often and for so long – that sense of vulnerability she was left with. _Who could be knocking at their door so late on Christmas Eve?_ She didn't notice how her son's eyes lit up. She went to the door, looked through the peephole, and gasped. No sooner had she unlocked and flung open the door than she was in her husband's arms, laughing and crying all at once.

Harmon Rabb, Sr dropped his bag and lifted Harm's mother into the air, whirling her around in the air as they laughed together. Then he dropped to one knee, and spread his arms out to his young son. Little Harm hesitated for only a second before running into his father's arms and holding him as close as he could. Tears seeped from the corners of his tightly-shut eyes as he whispered, "I _told_ Mommy you were coming home for Christmas."


	2. December 1968 - Harm

_December 1968_

Five year old Harm stood watching his Dad in front of the bathroom mirror. After watching for a while, Harm asked his father why he always put lots of soap on his face and neck and then scraped it off with a knife. His father replied that he was getting rid of the hair he didn't want.

"But why don't _I_ have hair on my face an' neck?" little Harm asked.

Harm's father laughed loudly, and Harm couldn't help but laugh too. His father's laughter was one of Harm's favorite sounds. It was deep, rich and strong. When his Dad was away and sent tapes to him and Mom to listen to, Harm's best parts were the ones where Dad laughed.

When he was done laughing, Dad put down the razor and squatted until he was eye-level with his son. He looked into his little boy's blue eyes and rumpled his hair, then hugged him tight. When he pulled away and spoke, his voice was gruff.

"I'm going to miss you while I'm gone, little fella. I'm sorry I have to leave before Christmas, but I want you to be good and listen to your mother, okay?"

Downcast at the reminder that his father would be leaving the next day, Harm nodded. "Are we still going skating today?"

"Of course we are, son. I'll teach you how to stay on the ice without falling over. And I'll tell you what – someday, when you start to grow hair on your face and neck, I'll teach you how to shave just like I'm doing, okay?"

Harm smiled and nodded. Dad was going away, right before Christmas, but he'd be back. Harm's hero would return, to teach him all the things he needed to know. Best of all, one day, he'd teach him how to fly.


	3. December 1983 - Mac

_December 1983_

Sixteen year old Sarah MacKenzie leaned into the wall in the dirty alleyway. She wasn't old enough to buy a drink at the nearby neighborhood bar, but most Friday nights, she and Eddie would meet at the spot where she now stood. He would bring a couple of six-packs of beer that he'd bought from an older friend, and they'd drive out to the park and sit in Eddie's car, drinking and talking for hours. Sometimes, they'd sit out there until the early hours of the morning, and then fall asleep until dawn. Then, nursing huge hangovers, they would head home, stopping on the way for fast food and coffee.

Sarah thought to herself that Eddie was taking much longer than usual to get to their meeting place. She always knew the exact time – and Eddie was already well an hour and thirty-four minutes late. She was getting testy, irritated... she'd been so looking forward to her first beer of the night, to the blissful feeling of chilled, bitter bubbles slipping and sliding merrily down her throat, chasing away all her problems.

Suddenly Eddie appeared at her side. "Hey Sarah," he said, looking guilty.

"Hey," she said, playfully punching her friend in the arm. "Where've you been? I've been waiting ninety-eight minutes, and I'm freezing my tail off here."

"Sorry," Eddie replied, looking away.

Sarah looked over his shoulder. "Where'd you park? And where's the booze?"

"Listen Sarah, I'm sorry but I can't go out tonight."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"My aunt's visiting for Christmas, and my folks made me stay home for dinner. I just snuck out here to tell you – I gotta get back."

"You have got to be kidding me, Eddie. Christmas dinner?"

Eddie shrugged. "I can't piss off my aunt, Sarah. She sends me money when I write to her."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Well, if you're going to make me party all by myself, at least tell me you've got something for me to party _with_."

"I might have a couple bottles in the car."

Sarah sat alone on a freezing park bench, drinking the three bottles of cheap beer Eddie had given her, feeling sorry for herself. Drinking alone was no fun, and she'd forgotten it was Christmas Day. It wasn't just Eddie that was being forced to spend the evening with boring parents and an old, loaded aunt. All the other friends she usually liked to party with would be with their families too.

She sat there for as long as she could before walking home. Her father greeted her at the door with an angry, 'Where the hell have you been, Sarah?"

"Not now, Dad, I'm tired," Sarah replied, not bothering to look him in the eye. _He's probably smashed_, she thought to herself. "I'm going to bed."

Her father stopped her as she made to walk around him. "Hold on there, Sarah, you know I don't like smelling alcohol on your breath."

Sarah laughed bitterly. "_Now_ I've heard everything. You think I _like_ smelling it on yours? You think I like it when you get mad at anything that moves? Well, guess what, Joe? I'm not a stupid little girl anymore. You can't push me around. You don't get to tell _me_ what to do."

Joe MacKenzie looked away. He pleaded, "Please, Sarah, it's Christmas. I – I made dinner..."

Now it was Sarah's turn to looked away. _Dinner_? Did he really think one lame dinner would magically fix the hell he'd put her and her mother through for as long as she could remember? Her mother had _left_ because of him.

Sarah's father disgusted her – he was mean and nasty when he was drunk (in other words, most of the time), and weak and whiny when he wasn't. He constantly tried to manipulate her; he tried to make her weak too – like her mother had been for so many years. Sarah couldn't let that happen to her – she refused to grow weak and voiceless too. She thought to herself that she needed to get away from him, like her mother had. She just couldn't do this anymore – there had to be something better out there, and if her mother had found it, then so could she.

"It's late. Good night," she said out loud, turning her back on her father and heading for her room.

Joe went to the kitchen and took the roasted chicken he'd prepared out of the oven. He threw it in the trash with a clatter. _It was too dry anyway_, he thought. _I couldn't even get that right_. He thought back on this daughter's words: "It's late". What she'd really meant was, "It's _too_ late." She was right. She hated him – and he couldn't blame her. After all, he hated himself. He plucked a fresh bottle of Jack Daniel's from his hidden stash and lifted it to his lips. Why bother with a glass that he'd only have to wash out later? "Merry Christmas, Joe," he muttered before taking a long, thirsty swallow.


	4. December 1983 - Harm

_December 1983_

Twenty year old Harm was smiling and laughing with his friends as they sat in the mess hall, talking about their plans for the holidays. Only one of those friends noticed that Harm's eyes were flat – they were missing their usual spark, the glint of fun and mischief.

Diane nudged her friend. "You okay there, Harm?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Harm replied.

"You don't fool me," Diane replied. "I'm a girl, remember? We _know_these things."

Harm smiled, and some of that old mischief came back. "You're a _girl_?! How'd you fool me for so long? I had no idea!"

"Don't I know it?" Diane rejoined, rolling her eyes. "You wouldn't know how to treat a girl if she was the last one on the earth."

"Oh yeah? Well, all I can say is, I'm glad you're not the last one on the earth."

Diane threw her head back and laughed. "Now that's better – there's the Harm I know."

"...And love, right? Because you know you love me."

Diane rolled her eyes again. "In your dreams, buster."

Jack Keeter interrupted their banter. "What are you two yakking about? And which one of you is coming home with me? You haven't lived until you've tasted my mother's Christmas feast."

"Not me, Keeter," Diane said. "My parents have planned a family reunion. Not exactly my idea of fun, but they can't wait to show off their 'future Naval officer'."

"Maybe it's for the best," Keeter joked, "you're so pretty that if you came home with me, all the girls would think I'm off the market. They'd never realize you're just one of the guys."

Diane sighed. "Quit calling me 'one of the guys', Keeter. You're worse than Harm." She looked over at Sturgis Turner, who was seated at the next table, leafing idly through a book. "You're the only gentleman around here, Sturgis," she called out.

Sturgis smiled. "You're right. I'm trying hard to teach these boys everything I know, but it's no easy task."

Keeter let out a groan. "Shut up, Sturgis." He returned his attention to Harm. "How about it, Rabb? Fancy a little Southern hospitality?"

"Not this time, Keeter."

"Going home to momma?"

"No."

"That's it – just 'no'?"

Diane cut in. "Cut it out, Keeter." She deftly changed the subject. "So who's going out with me tomorrow? We have to celebrate busting out of this place – even if it _is _just for a couple weeks."

Later, as they walked out of the mess hall, Diane gestured to Harm to hang back a little. "So, I guess you're going to the Vietnam Memorial," she said to Harm, her tone so low that only he could hear her.

Harm simply nodded.

"I wish I could go with you," Diane said. "I feel like I know your dad – you've told me so much about him... and I know that wherever he is, he misses you just as much as you miss him. Just know that I'll be thinking about you both on Christmas Eve."

Harm smiled. "That means a lot – more than you know, Diane."

"What are friends for? Merry Christmas, Harm."

"Merry Christmas, Diane."


	5. December 1993 - Mac

_December 1993_

Twenty-six year old Mac entered her room and threw her heavy books on her tiny desk. It had been another long, freezing night at the law library. She'd gotten a lot of work done, and was finally feeling marginally prepared for the barrage of exams that would be heading her way in a few weeks. She _had_to do well – she owed it to everyone who'd ever believed in her... people like Uncle Matt and John Farrow, and herself.

She smiled wryly. She owed it to herself most of all – and sometimes she wondered if her constant drive to be the best was the result of her Marine training, her naturally tenacious spirit... or just the demons that still haunted her dreams and kept her on edge – so much so that pulling consecutive all-nighters without so much as a cup of coffee didn't bother her.

_Enough with the self-psychoanalysis_, she muttered to herself. _Time to take a shower and get some sleep... I have to be at the gym by 1100_. The last thing she needed was a less than stellar fitness report. She had to stay at the top of the pack. There it was again – that drive. Mac paced her room – she still felt wired, so she decided that a cup of hot cocoa would help lull her to sleep. Maybe with one of the gingerbread men she'd impulsively purchased at a neighborhood bakery the day before. Cocoa and a gingerbread man... perhaps this snack would be her one nod to the holiday season. She hadn't had the time to even think about getting a tree or putting up some decorations.

She was walking towards her tiny stove to heat up some milk when, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a white envelope peeking out from under her door. Mac picked it up and smiled to herself. She'd know that handwriting anywhere... and it was just like Uncle Matt to remember to send her a Christmas card. She ripped it open eagerly, her heart filled with love and gratitude for the man who loved her as much as any father could.

On the cover of the card was a gaily-decorated Christmas tree with presents strewn under it. She opened it up to read the message:

_My dearest girl –_

_You didn't think I'd forget, did you? I know how hard you're working, and I wanted to remind you that I'm here rooting for you, and wishing you all the best. You'll do great – mark my words, you'll be the best lawyer in the Marine Corps someday. Try to find some time to enjoy the holidays, and remember I love you, and I'm so proud of you._

_Merry Christmas_

Mac swiped a tear from the corner of her eye. _I love you too, Uncle Matt. Merry Christmas._


	6. December 1995 - Harm

**_December 1995_**

"Bye Dad. See you next year."

For a long time, thirty-two year old Harm stood silent, staring at the letters carved into the stone, wishing that they could speak back to him. He willed them to say something, anything, just to let him know that he was doing something more than just talking to a block of rock, year after year. _Dad? Are you really out there? Are you thinking of me too, wondering what I've accomplished, who I've become? I'll never give up on you, Dad. Never._

Harm's annual visit was over, but he didn't want to leave. His deep, slow breaths rose slowly into the wintry night air, like the smoke that still unfurled from the chimney of his grandmother's home. _Grandma_. He made a mental note to call her the next day – and to call his mother and Frank, of course. Not that it was likely he'd forget to call them – for him, Christmas Day would be quiet, unremarkable.

The past year had been anything but quiet and unremarkable, though. It had been filled with adventure, a veritable whirlwind of work. He'd been so busy with his endless caseload that he couldn't remember the last time he'd had a decent night's sleep. And the kicker was, it really hadn't been half bad. Harm realized that he was coming to terms with his reincarnation as a 'legal weenie'. It was a thought he both resented and found comfort in.

He resented it, because it was far from the plans he'd had for his life and career, and because of how his 'former life' had ended. The only thing worse than not being able to do the one thing he loved more than anything else in the world, was the knowledge that someone had died because of him. It still weighed on his shoulders, heavy and immovable. Sure, it was an accident, it had been beyond his control, it 'wasn't his fault', like everyone said, but he knew he'd go to his grave feeling responsible for the death of his RIO. Nothing could change that – not even the recent redemption he'd experienced when he got his wings back on the Seahawk. It was his cross, and the least he could do in honor of his colleague was to bear that cross, and let it drive him to live his life more meaningfully, with purpose.

_Purpose_. That was what made his new life rewarding, what made him wake up every morning with a fire in his belly, ready to be best lawyer he could be. He took comfort from the fact that he was still doing good, serving country, helping people – not in the way he still longed to and dreamed of, but in a way that was still important. He smiled ruefully. He'd never have admitted that much during his flying days. He'd made mocking remarks about the Navy's lawyers just as much, if not more, than anyone else. Back then, as far as he was concerned, they were weak-willed, garbage-spouting paper-pushers, who'd never be able to get anywhere near the 'real action', and therefore held a grudge towards those in the services who actually 'got the job done'. Ironic to think he was now doing a job he'd once denigrated. He'd been foolish, short-sighted, and it was a shame that it had taken a tragedy to help him see that.

Now that time had put some distance between him and his aviation career, he could see his old flaws more clearly – the over-confidence, the black-and-white judgment calls, the lack of perspective. His ramp strike, and the bitter aftermath, had forced him to wear very different shoes from those of the self-assured aviator, and his new career was helping him learn to walk in a new pair of shoes every day. It was impossible to be a good investigator and advocate if you couldn't place yourself in different sets of circumstances – you had to interpret the evidence through the lens of the judge and members; you had to understand your client's thought processes, the witnesses' viewpoints – and you sure as heck had to be able to predict what the opposing side would think, and what they would do.

Did he still have tunnel vision? _More often than not_. Harm shrugged – that part of him would probably always be there. Was he still a little too sure of himself? _Probably_. Harm knew better than to think he'd been magically transformed into someone completely different by the events of the past few years, life-changing though they'd been. What he did know for sure, though, was that before his accident, he'd never even stopped to ask himself those questions. And he believed, he hoped, that the measure of self-awareness he'd gained since then would help him become a better man. A man like his father.

_Time to head home_. Harm finally turned away from the wall. He wondered what he would do when he got home. He usually didn't mind his own company, but the thought of the cold, empty apartment wasn't exactly inviting. He'd been working and traveling so much that he still hadn't had time or opportunity to make the place feel a little homier. He was pretty sure he didn't have anything in the fridge except a little moldy cheese, and maybe a store-bought salad. An idea struck him. Maybe he should call a friend, head out to a nice restaurant for dinner. Who was he kidding? It was Christmas Eve, and all his 'friends', at least the kind of friends whose company he'd _enjoy_, would have other plans.

He recalled his pleasant little interlude with Kate Pike. _Maybe I should call her... she just might be in town_. Kate was fun, feisty, attractive and witty. She gave as good as she got, and she knew the score – exactly the kind of girl to make a dull winter night a little more… interesting. Still, Harm balked at the thought of calling her. Or cute Caroline from the deli, or funny Alicia from the health food store, or even sophisticated Angelique, whom he'd sat next to for nine and a half extremely pleasant hours during his most recent long-haul flight. And as he shoved his gloved hands deep into the pockets of his coat, he knew why the thought of those ladies didn't really appeal on that particular day. On any other night, he'd have been game, but today, visiting the Wall had reminded him of someone – someone who was unfailingly supportive at this difficult time of the year. He'd had a letter from Diane that morning. He'd read it so many times that he'd already committed it to memory:

_Harm,_

_How are you? Still enjoying being a legal weenie? I'm so glad you're doing so well. As for me, life at sea is kicking my butt, and I'm loving it. A few challenges, but nothing I can't handle._

_This is going to be a short one - I only have a second to get it out to you, and I just hope it reaches you before Christmas Eve. Know that I am thinking about you and your dad, as always, and wishing I was with you._

_Merry Christmas, my dear friend, and may the New Year bring us both new adventures and surprises – the best kind!_

_I miss you__. (Don't worry, I'm not getting soft just yet, I only wrote that because we've been playing Christmas carols in the evenings, and it's making me all nostalgic. Damn those cheesy carols.)_

_Diane._

He smiled to himself. _Diane_ – kind-hearted, mischievous, vivacious; who always teased him and cheered him up…. When had he started thinking about her as more than just a friend? He didn't know, but this Christmas, for the first time, he was thinking about possibilities, not just professionally but personally. And to his surprise, he kinda liked it.


	7. December 1997 - Mac

_**December 1997**_

Thirty year old Mac slumped on her bed, thinking to herself that she couldn't possibly lift even her little finger. It had been a doozy of a day. When she was transferred to JAG HQ earlier in the year, she'd felt a little disappointed (although she would have died before admitting it to anyone – as always, duty came first). The cases she'd handled in her previous billet were challenging but incredibly rewarding – she was bringing justice to those who needed the most. It was what she'd always dreamed of doing as a lawyer.

And her time in Bosnia had placed a burning desire within her to use the law as a weapon for good. In Bosnia, she'd seen things she would never forget – atrocities that had shaken even the most stoic Marine to the core, images that would haunt her till the day she died. She'd sworn anew to dedicate the rest of her life to helping others and making a positive difference in their lives.

So she'd been a little disappointed when she was first reassigned to JAG HQ. She'd feared that her new role would require lots of pencil-pushing, brief-filing, client-coddling, and very little else. Boy, had she been wrong. From Day One, it had been a rollercoaster ride – hard work, challenges, and situations in which she'd had to apply her wits like never before. It was anything but boring, and far more rewarding than she'd ever imagined.

Her brief and ill-fated sojourn at Dalton's law firm had only reinforced to her how fortunate she was to be a military lawyer, and how much she loved her job. She had thought returning to civilian life would help her to fulfill her potential to the greatest degree, but ultimately she'd been disappointed by the experience. She belonged in the military; she was a Marine through and through, to her very core. Harm had helped her see that… not with words, but with the feeling she got working with him at JAG HQ. Nothing else could compare.

_Harm_... every single day he challenged her, amused her, surprised her, infuriated her, and ultimately pushed her to be better. She hoped she did the same for him – when they were each at the top of their game, she thought they made a great team.

Mac smiled to herself. Harm had said something funny about that tonight, when they'd wrapped up the case in a bow and were basking in the shared euphoria of success. "You know, Mac, when you're on _my_ side, you're a thing of beauty. When you're on the other side, you're my worst nightmare." It was such a 'Harm' thing to say – a compliment that didn't sound quite like a compliment, but she knew it was heartfelt and sincere.

Mac felt like she was getting to know Harm better, but still hadn't figured the guy out. When she'd first met him, he'd come across as incredibly arrogant and smooth; much too charming, sexy and handsome for his own good – and he was definitely all that, but then she'd quickly discovered other sides of him... the loyal side, that would stand beside her at great personal risk to himself; the protective side, that would always look out for her; the dependable side, that she could count on to tell her the truth, even when it hurt.

There was the goofy side that always lightened her mood on a stressful day; the caring, compassionate side that invested personally in his cases and the lives of his clients; the principled side that stood for truth and justice no matter what; the doggedly determined side that would see every mission right through to the end; the intuitive side that could often use raw instinct and simple observations to unravel even the most convoluted mystery.

And of course there was the sensitive side that was still in so many ways just a little boy yearning for his missing father. That part of Harm tugged hard at Mac's heartstrings, made her want to just hold that innocent boy in her arms and care for him. There was the competitive side of Harm that always wanted to win, and the impulsive side that would do the craziest, most extreme things in order to prove his point. There was the annoying side of Harm – the side that could be frustratingly opaque about what he was thinking, the part that sometimes made her doubt that she truly had his trust and respect. Harm liked to hoe his own road, and he had no compunction about walking alone. It sometimes made him exasperating to work with.

She had a feeling there was much more 'Harm' left for her discover... but only a part of her wanted to. The other part was scared... scared that if she got too close, if she allowed herself to develop stronger feelings than friendship for Harm, she could get badly burned. Not only was she currently involved with someone else, and not only could she get her heart broken, but she could also place her career in serious jeopardy – the promising career she'd worked so hard and sacrificed so much for, the one she'd left and then returned to for good. The mere thought frightened her half to death... perhaps because deep down, she knew she just might be falling for the drop-dead gorgeous man already.

_Enough about Harm_, she scolded herself sternly. _You already have to work with him all day. The last thing you need is to be thinking about him at night. Besides, Mac, you're with Dalton, remember?_ Guilt gnawed at her insides… even though she had her misgivings about her relationship with Dalton, she knew that indulging in idle fantasies about another man was wrong. To distract herself, she decided to open Uncle Matt's Christmas card. She'd been saving it for a few days, wanting to savor it when she eventually read it.

_My dearest girl_, it began, and Mac grinned. His cards and letters always began that way.

_Merry Christmas. I hope you're taking care of yourself, and not working too hard. How's your friend Harmon Rabb? Give him my best. I'll always be in his debt. I don't want to make you mad, so I won't say anything about what I owe you. Oh, and please don't worry about me, I'm fine. This place isn't so bad after all._

Mac closed the card, thinking that she intended to confirm for herself that her uncle truly was fine, when she paid him the surprise visit she was planning for Christmas Day. She reflected on the words in the card. 'Your friend Harmon Rabb'... She sighed. Harm _was_ a friend, and a good one – now all she needed to do was keep reminding herself that he could never be anything more.


	8. December 1998 - Harm

_A/N: Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! Happy Holidays!_

_**December 1998**_

It was the day after Christmas. Thirty-five year old Harm sat alone at the bar, nursing a beer. He'd gone there on a whim, needing to get out of his apartment, and unwilling to inflict his company on any of his friends on Boxing Day. The bar provided anonymity with the façade of company, and that was just what Harm needed. He thought back over the last few days. Two days ago, it had been a very eventful Christmas Eve at the office... Jordan, Chloe, the snowstorm.

_Chloe_... Harm grinned into his beer – now that was one spirited, sassy little girl. He'd love to have a lively little girl someday. Sometimes he wanted to be a father so badly. And sometimes he wondered if he'd be a good father, one fully involved in his children's lives. He hoped so... he desperately wanted his children to have a better experience than he'd had. He missed his dad, he still thought about him every day, but strangely, despite the emptiness he'd described to Jordan Parker, he'd found some peace from finally accepting that Harmon Rabb, Sr was gone.

Since his heartbreaking discovery in Russia, Harm knew that he'd begun to heal – and he realized now that he'd _needed_ to heal, not just from the pain of losing his father, but from the angst of the fruitless search that had consumed so much of his life. He didn't completely regret looking for his father, because that urge had come from so deep within him that he honestly didn't think he could have done any of it differently, but there was a painful sense of relief within him that the obsessive search was finally over… even if it had ended in sorrow.

He had a lot to thank Mac for – he'd said to her that she'd gone further for him than anyone else, and it was the truth. She'd stuck with him all the way, and now she was giving him the space and support he needed to come to terms with his loss. She also seemed to take a perverse delight in driving him up the wall, but if he was honest with himself, he wouldn't have it any other way.

_Mac_. So much about her intrigued Harm – he found himself constantly trying to get into her head, to figure her out. He knew it was probably an exercise in futility – Mac was a complicated woman, as all the tumultuous events of the past year had shown. And yet there were certain things about her that were so simple and straightforward – like courage, beauty, honor, dedication, compassion, intelligence, tenacity, strength and kindness.

She had walls up within her (understandably), she often took things a little too seriously, she had a resentful streak, and she could be blindly stubborn, but her imperfections only made her more fascinating to Harm. Frustrating as she could be, she was still one of the most impressive women he knew.

He saw different facets of the beautiful, maddening woman all the time – the Ragle debacle had shown Harm her vulnerable side; her relationships with Chloe and even Bud displayed her protective, motherly side; the way she'd come back stronger after the traumatic Dalton Lowne saga showed her sheer resilience; and as for her fledgling relationship with the newest thorn in Harm's flesh, the annoying Australian Mic Brumby... well, Harm wasn't sure what side of Mac that was, but he was pretty sure it was a side he didn't like. The Aussie was bad news, and he wished Mac could see that. He hated seeing her fall for Brumby's slimy sweet talk. She could do better.

Harm's mouth twisted mockingly... was that _really_ why seeing Mac with Brumby angered him so much? The idea of being with Mac, and not just as friends, popped into Harm's head – and not for the first time. He reminded himself that it wasn't a good idea… it was crazy, unrealistic, uncomfortable… even a little bit scary. He was insane to even let himself imagine it. They wouldn't even be able to work together anymore – and that would create resentment in one or both of them. He couldn't risk that. They were both much better off holding on to their friendship... and it was a great friendship. He could be content with that. He had to be.

Harm forced all images and thoughts of Mac out of mind, replacing them with the pleasing image of a smiling, witty psychiatrist. _Jordan Parker_. He even liked her name – cool, crisp, peaceful, refreshing; like the woman herself. Jordan was smart, funny, charming, beautiful, and not in the same line of command. That was important. She'd been wonderful with Chloe the other night – so she liked kids, and that was important too. Jordan obviously cared about people, shared a lot of the same values, and she seemed to like him too. There was _something_ there. He decided to call her again when he got home – to wish her a Merry Christmas, and hopefully schedule a pleasant dinner date.


	9. December 2002 - Harm

_**A/N**__: Huge thanks to everyone who's been reading and reviewing. This instalment is where the story goes AU and the experiences of our protagonists start to converge. _

_**December 2002**_

Thirty-nine year old Harm dragged his fork lazily through the cold pasta on his plate. _I'm not the least bit hungry_, he finally admitted to himself, rising to toss out the rest of the food. He thought back to the events of the night before – Bud and Harriet's Christmas dinner.

Bud was doing great – getting his life and career back on track after the loss of his leg. Harm couldn't be prouder of his friend. He and Harriet had been through so much. They say the loss of a child changes you forever, and Harm, despite having no children of his own, knew it to be true. The children he'd 'lost' over the years – children of friends, like Bud and Harriet's little one, gone before she even arrived; children he didn't even know, like Annie Lewis – would always stay with him. He couldn't even imagine the pain of losing one's own child.

Turning from those sad thoughts, his mind settled on a much more pleasing subject – Sarah MacKenzie. His friend, partner, confidante... He'd told Mac things no-one else knew, shared moments with her that no-one else could even imagine. They'd been through so much. They'd fought death and evil together, many times, and had always come out on the other side… older and battle-worn, but also wiser and stronger. No matter how much they fought, they were drawn back to each other – they always had been. Mac had enriched his life – no doubt about it. She made him better, and he couldn't imagine a life without her.

She'd looked beautiful last night, her skin glowing, eyes lit from within. Her smile had seemed like it was made just for him – from the moment he'd entered the room, he'd been unable to look away. But then she _always_ looked beautiful. And her truest beauty lay deep within her. He asked himself for the thousandth time why they couldn't seem to find a way to just be together, why they'd never been able to break down the barriers between them, why it always seemed so complicated... and then he gave himself all the usual answers: they were too alike yet too different; they were too competitive; it was too late – they'd wasted all their chances; their careers came first with them and neither one would ever sacrifice career progression for a relationship; the timing was always wrong; they were both too stubborn; too much had happened – too many old hurts...

But when he'd looked into her eyes last night, he'd seen something – an openness, a warmth; and he'd felt that same warmth and openness in himself too, reaching back to her. Maybe it _wasn't_ too late. Perhaps, just perhaps, the time was finally right. Maybe it was time to take a leap of faith. Maybe he _hadn't_ squandered his last chance with her. Suddenly, Harm couldn't wait another minute... not another second. He picked up the phone – if Mac was home, he would go straight to her... and finally lay it all on the line – for better or for worse.


	10. December 2002 - Mac

_That same night..._

Thirty-five year old Mac shivered under her blanket. _You'd better not be getting sick, MacKenzie._ She thought to herself that there had to be nothing worse than being sick _and_ alone at the holidays. That was the last thing she needed. Not when the season was going so well – Bud and Harriet had hosted such a beautiful dinner the night before, and Harm had walked in, looking gorgeous as always... _now wait a minute_, she muttered to herself, _do I really want to go there right now_?

She adjusted herself on the couch and turned the volume up on her TV. They were showing 'It's A Wonderful Life', and although it was one of her favorite movies, she wasn't really enjoying it tonight. She was restless, irritable, and... she couldn't stop thinking about Harm. There, she'd admitted it. The question was, what was she going to do about it? She sighed. What _could_ she do? She'd tried vague hints and broad nudges, she'd even gone as far as throwing herself into the arms of the wrong man (thank God that had ended when it did)... Maybe it just wasn't meant to be between her and Harm.

The thought made her chest feel strangely tight. If there was one thing the Mic saga had taught her, it was to be honest with herself – and the honest truth was that she didn't know how much longer she could keep pretending that she was okay with just being friends with Harm. She knew that true love and happiness were gifts worth waiting for, but maybe waiting wasn't enough. Maybe she needed to fight for those gifts, the way she'd had to fight for so many other great gifts in her life – including, strangely enough, Harm's friendship. With Harm, it always came full circle – he was always there in the picture, and although having his friendship meant everything to her, it still wasn't enough.

Had she _really_ tried everything? Had she ever really come right out and just told him how she felt? Simply, honestly? Sure, it would hurt like hell if he didn't return her feelings, but at least she'd know for sure... at least the waiting, the endless waiting and hoping she'd never admitted even to herself, would be over. She needed some kind of closure, or she would never be able to truly move on. And what better time than the present? It could ruin her holiday season, or make it absolutely amazing. Either way, at least she'd be able to start 2003 with a clean slate.

She reached slowly for the phone – and then just before she picked it up, it rang.

"Hello."

"Mac?"

"Harm?"

"Mac, I'm coming over."

"Huh?"

"I mean, I'd uh, like to come over and talk... are you okay with that?"

"Uh, sure... I'm... here. Are you okay?"

"Yes... no… I mean, there's something I have to tell you… something I should have said a long time ago and – I need to say this face to face."

Mac's heart seemed to be trying to beat its way out of her chest. Did she dare to hope? She suddenly realized she was holding her breath, and that Harm was still on the other end of the line.

He spoke again. "I'll be there in twenty minutes."

_Click._

It felt like the longest twenty minutes of her life.


	11. December 2002 - Mac & Harm

_A few hours later..._

Harm and Mac lay on the couch, wrapped in each other's arms, Mac's back cradled against Harm's chest, her head tucked beneath his chin. Each marveled at how easy it felt... how naturally their bodies seemed to fit together, how uncomplicated it felt to just reach out and touch, hold, kiss. Sure, there was heat and passion, but there was also sweetness, softness. It all felt strangely familiar, but somehow still fresh and brand-new... and precious, so incredibly precious.

They were silent now... so many words had already been said... words of explanation, words of apology, words of hope, words of sadness, words of joy... and the most joyful were the simple seven that had changed _everything_. "I love you". "I love you too". The words flowed from one heart to another, and then back, breaking down walls, building bonds that would last through time.

"What are you thinking?" Mac asked, as Harm ran his fingers through her hair.

"I'm thinking," Harm said with a sigh, "that we should have done this a long time ago."

"Maybe. But maybe we weren't ready. Maybe we wouldn't have made it, if we'd done this back then."

"Sounds like you're pretty sure we'll make it now," he mumbled into her hair.

She pulled away slightly, twisting to look into his face. "I am. Aren't you?"

His eyes held hers. "Surer than I've ever been of anything in my life," and in his voice was the ring of certainty, that told Mac that he was in this for the long haul, that would stick his neck out and fight for her – for _them_, for what they were becoming, and that he wouldn't let go.

Mac knew that she felt the same about him. Now that they had finally walked to the edge of the cliff and looked over it together, she knew they'd do everything in their power to keep from going into freefall. And the love that had kept them together this far, against all the odds, would be strong enough to carry them through the rest of life's storms. As Mac relaxed into his arms again, she thought to herself that this was definitely the best Christmas ever.

Silence reigned again for a while, and then Harm spoke. "What are _you_ thinking?" he asked.

"I'm thinking of all the Christmases in my past. Some of them were... well, pretty awful... others were pretty good. But this is the first one I've ever had that's been absolutely _perfect_... and it's all because of you. Thank you."

Harm's voice was deep with emotion as his arm tightened around her. "Thank _you_. I know what you mean… I feel like everything we've been through was worth it, if it's led us to _this_." He laid a gentle kiss on the top of her head. "Merry Christmas, Mac."

_A/N: THANK YOU so much to everyone who's been reading and reviewing… and Merry Christmas!_


End file.
